He pressed the tip of the bulb against her rosette, twisting it slightly. “Relax and open for me, take your punishment,” he said sternly.
“I’m trying,” she whimpered, her pucker contracting nervously. He pressed the ginger forward, gently but insistently, and gradually her bottom opened and accepted the intrusion.
“You may release your bottom cheeks now, darling.”
She obeyed and folded her arms under her chin. “That feels cold, not hot,” she told him, wriggling her bottom in the air a little.
“It’s going to heat up gradually and you’ll soon feel a nearly unbearable burn. It won’t harm you, though. It only hurts in the moment. And you should be grateful I am a kind master. In the past, if a slave had done something especially bad or was not silent during the punishment, her master would remove the gingerroot after the effect wore off, peel off another layer, and place it in her bottom again. And again and again for as long as it took for her to learn their lesson.”
“Ohh,” she said, and then the pitch of her voice became higher. “Oh my god!”
“I see it’s starting to work.” Roderick reached out and pinched her bottom cheeks together, bringing her bottom hole in close contact with the ginger for maximum burn.
“OWWW!” she screeched. She reached back frantically to grasp the offending implement to yank it out.
“No, that’s a bad girl,” Roderick said. He captured both of her wrists in one hand and pinned them against her lower back, while continuing to pinch her bottom cheeks together. Her only free body parts were her legs, which she kicked frantically. “Please, Roderick, take it out! I forgive myself!” She twisted, but to no avail, for he kept her firmly in place.
“Relax and accept your discipline,” he said implacably. “While you are experiencing this burning, think about the pain you and I felt when someone came close to destroying our relationship. Imagine this is the last of it, and when it goes away, it’s gone for good. Nothing will come between us again.”
She continued thrashing around for a few more seconds, and then something seemed to break inside of her as his words sunk in. She settled on the bed and burst into tears. Roderick could tell his words had hit just the right spot and that her cries were cleansing. He continued to hold her wrists in one hand but released his pinch so that he could stroke her bottom and thighs. “Good girl. Accept the pain and cry all you need to, darling.”
She nodded and sobbed during the rest of the discipline. Roderick could see that as the pain from the ginger subsided, so too did the pain from her action. Minutes ticked by slowly, until finally her cries died down. She let out a sigh of contentment. “It doesn’t burn as much anymore.”
Roderick released her wrists and removed the ginger plug from her bottom. “I’ve got to have you now,” he said, hearing the thick arousal in his voice. “You have no idea how aroused that made me, punishing your cute little bottom hole.” He undid the button of his trousers and dropped them to the floor, causing his erection to spring forward.
Betsy turned around, reached out and unbuttoned his shirt. “I want you too,” she said breathily.
Roderick tore the shirt off his shoulders after Betsy finished unbuttoning. He placed his hands on the backs of her soft, firm thighs and pushed her toward the center of the bed, where he climbed over her, straddling her hips.
She tilted her pelvis forward, inviting his invasion into her core, and Roderick didn’t need a second invitation. He placed the head of his cock along her slick entrance and then buried himself fully inside her snug channel. Relishing the feeling for a moment, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. He then began his movements, first slowly, a strong caress. He nibbled on her neck and growled in her ear. “Is your naughty bottom still a little warm?”
“Yes!” she gasped, tilting her head back and giving him access to the center of her delicate neck. He wrapped his hand around her throat and applied slight pressure, pinning her on the bed. His cock claimed her body, becoming more insistent in its demand for pleasure from her as his pace quickened.
Betsy dragged her nails down his chest before clutching his muscled arms and hanging on for the ride. His thrusts were hard and fast, driving her breasts up and down until he released her neck, took one of them in his hand and slapped the other lightly. She squealed from the sudden swat to her erect nipple and moaned when he bent down and caught it in between his lips before grazing it with his teeth.
He disconnected from her briefly in order to turn her around and take her pussy from behind. Slowing his movements, he slapped her bottom hard as it bounced against his stomach. He slid his hand up her back, up her neck and finally around to her mouth. His fingers invaded her hot mouth. “Suck me,” he ordered in a low growl. She obeyed, obediently lapping at him and wetting his thumb sloppily with her saliva. His digit now properly lubricated, he touched her punished bottom hole.
“Unngghhhh,” she cried unintelligibly as he pressed his thumb into her rosette until it was fully buried. Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “Roderick…” she gasped.
He sped up his movements, fucking her hard while keeping her hot bottom filled with his thumb, and it wasn’t long before she arched her back and screamed out her orgasm. Her sex clenched around him, milking his cock and causing his pleasure to build rapidly.
“I’m going to come, baby,” he groaned, right before he stiffened and erupted inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, using his arms to partially prop himself so that he didn’t land all of his weight on her. When he’d caught his breath, he kissed her temple. What a treasure she was, accepting his discipline and finding pleasure with him afterwards.
Later, after they’d bathed and were still swimming in the afterglow of lovemaking, Roderick lay on his back in the bed and brought Betsy to his chest. “How are you feeling, little lamb?”
She sighed, a contented look on her face. “I feel happy and loved.”
“Not guilty any longer?”
“No.” She wrapped her arm around him and snuggled against him.
“I love you being here like this in my arms, allowing me to hold and possess you.”
“You’ll always possess me. I’ll always be yours,” she told him.
He kissed her forehead. “I’ve lost count of the times I’ve had to chase and catch you, and I don’t see it stopping anytime soon. But you’re right, darling, even if you run a thousand more times, I’ll always catch you and get you back into my arms where you belong. The wolf always catches the lamb.”
“Thank you, Roderick, but I won’t run again,” she whispered, her eyes half lidded.
“Yes, you will.” He stroked her hair and held her as she drifted off to sleep.
He smiled to himself, thinking about their time together. He had traveled across the country to catch her, and it had been the best decision of his life. He knew that, whatever their future held, whatever came their way, he’d always make the same decision. He’d forever and always be up to the task of catching Betsy.
Epilogue
On May 23, 1899, the marshal marched Johnny Miller to the jail in handcuffs. His crime: Bank robbery. His sentence: 23 years in federal prison.
The brilliant idea of how to rid themselves of Johnny came from Susannah, and further discussion and planning allowed the four of them to concoct the perfect setup. With Mr. Taylor’s knowledge and the marshal’s oversight, they used Johnny’s penchant for making an easy buck to their advantage. Susannah and Adam had a conversation within Johnny’s range of hearing that went something like this:
“I’m worried about the lack of security at the bank, Adam.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I don’t like that anyone can walk right in there and open the safe now that the lock’s broke.”
Susannah held the back of her hand to her forehead. “Land’s sake! How much money do you reckon is in the safe?”
Adam whistled and rubbed his chin. “I’d guess a hundred thousand, easy. Maybe even more considering all the money Roderick Maso
n must have deposited.”
“I hear Mr. Taylor hired the blacksmith to fix the safe next Monday, so that’s a relief at least.”
Despite Susannah’s and Adam’s appalling lack of acting skills, Johnny’s greed was such that he believed the story they fed him. The marshal and his deputy took care of the rest. They staked out the bank around the clock and caught Johnny in the act of trying to rob it the Sunday before the lock was supposedly due to be fixed.
Roderick and Betsy moved to Sacramento, feeling about a hundred sixty pounds lighter and excited to start their new life together. The bustling California city was the perfect location for them in both size and location. Roderick worked for Florence’s uncle for a year before branching out and establishing his own firm. Included in his many accomplishments was designing the Neoclassical structure of the California State Capitol at the west end of Capitol Park.
Betsy and Roderick brought into the world four children. Their oldest decided at age eighteen that she didn’t want to be courted by any of the gentlemen in her circle of acquaintances. They were boring, she tearfully explained to her father, and she could guess exactly how the rest of her life would go if she married one of them. Her words resonated somewhere in the back of Roderick’s memory. With his blessing, she married a cowboy from out of town. That cowboy’s name was Caleb Harrington.
The Harringtons and Masons didn’t need their children’s marriage as an excuse to stay in touch. The Masons returned to Virginia City often to visit the Harringtons and Betsy’s parents, a journey made more convenient when they purchased an automobile in 1915.
No one can be right all the time, and Roderick ended up being very wrong about one thing. He’d predicted that Betsy would continue to run and he’d continue to have to chase her, but that wasn’t the case. The day they married was the day Roderick was successful in catching Betsy—forever.
The End
Justice for Elsie (Book Three)
Chapter One
Nevada, 1899
Cal Fin’s funeral took place on an unusually warm day in April. His daughter Elsie stared through her tears at the preacher in the front of the church. She couldn’t process everything he was saying about her deceased father, but some of the words used to describe him seemed to splice through the air and roar in her ears—loyal, hardworking, kind. That’s how the townsfolk viewed her father after knowing him only a couple years. Elsie, having known him her whole life, agreed with these descriptions, but the words seemed painfully shallow and inadequate.
It would be impossible for Elsie to describe her pa in any way that could convey the depth of her grief that day. She would miss the little things, like hearing his boots clipping across the floor as he circled their cabin every evening at dusk to light each of the coal oil lamps. She would miss the way he would guffaw suddenly at something he read in the newspaper and insist that Elsie drop whatever she was doing to read it too.
Life hadn’t been easy, but Elsie couldn’t remember him complaining, not even once. The closest he’d ever come to bellyaching was ten years earlier after her ma had died, when he’d allowed a single tear to roll down his cheek. He’d wiped it away before taking young Elsie on his lap and telling her they would be just fine, the two of them. And he’d made sure they were. Years of toil and backbreaking labor as an employee of the transcontinental railroad earned him enough money to provide for the both of them and to stash a respectable amount of money away.
The day after Elsie turned sixteen, they’d headed west from Des Moines to Virginia City, where Cal bought a small plot of ground around an abandoned cabin. It had been a dream of his to own a ranch just like his father had and to raise cattle and horses. He’d believed his decision to become a rancher would serve them both well, but things didn’t turn out as he’d expected.
Elsie perused the somber crowd of people inside the stuffy church. It would have been better to hold the service outside in the shade where there was at least a breeze. The children fidgeted and fussed. The women fanned their sweaty faces. The men sat expressionless with their hats removed and eyes facing the casket. She spotted Adam and Susannah Harrington with their two children sitting next to newlyweds Roderick and Betsy Mason. The Masons had been at the church for a much happier occasion the day before—to be married—and they’d come back that day to pay their respects.
The Harringtons and Masons were among the more neighborly folk in Virginia City. Upon Cal and Elsie Fin’s arrival in town a couple years back, Adam Harrington had helped them build a sturdy barn for the milk cows and horses, and Susannah had brought them supper every day for a week to nourish them after their labor. The warm welcome had been a source of strength and hope, fueling the Fins’ excitement about their life in the friendly western town. Cal had named their ranch “Infinity” because it meant forever; that’s how he’d seen their new home.
But not everyone had treated them kindly. Elsie’s eyes fell on the pew where the Xaviers sat. They were the richest family in town who owned the largest ranch, and they were merciless toward any businessperson who threatened to take even a small amount of profit away from them.
Nausea rolled through her stomach and caused a tightening in her throat. Angry tears joined her tears of grief and spilled down her cheeks. How dare the Xaviers attend her father’s funeral? She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists, her rage just at the brink of exploding out of her. Before meeting Mark Xavier, she’d never felt compelled to cause bodily injury to anyone, but if she’d taken a gun to the funeral, she might have shot him down right then in the middle of the service.
Elsie was sure as the day was long that Mark Xavier was the reason her pa was lying dead in a casket instead of sitting by her side. Xavier didn’t kill her pa swiftly with a gun or a knife, like someone more decent would do. He’d killed him slowly and without laying a finger on him. Because of that, there was no proof of murder, and Xavier could not be prosecuted by the law, which only served to add to Elsie’s bitterness and sense of injustice.
The organ’s sorrowful notes and the sounds of the funeral attendees shuffling to their feet temporarily halted her bitter musing. She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose while everyone else sang the closing hymn, Amazing Grace. Mark Xavier’s deep baritone rose over the rest of the congregation, giving him an air of authority and an appearance of sincerity that fooled so many.
Elsie wasn’t fooled. She’d known the type of man he was within weeks of moving to town. The Fins’ initial herd of 100 cattle had grazed peacefully on their land while Elsie and Cal worked with the blacksmith to create a branding iron. Right under their noses, their cattle had begun to disappear. It wasn’t until after they finally branded them that the thefts stopped. By then twenty cows and ten bulls were no longer in their possession. Elsie and Cal had strongly suspected the Xaviers of stealing them. But because the cattle hadn’t been branded, there was no proof, so their suspicions were useless.
Thus began Mark Xavier’s harassment. The Fins would get word that the Xaviers were spreading lies about their cattle, saying they were diseased. This led to the Fins needing to sell their livestock for less money than they were worth. Still, they’d made enough money to survive, and they did their best to remain hopeful that the slander would eventually die down or cease altogether.
But Mark Xavier was ruthless. His next attack came in the form of damming the small stream that ran through his land down to theirs. By cutting off the water supply, he forced the Fins to wrangle their cattle to the less-fertile side of their ranch where a well was within walking distance. Her father, the foreman, and their two cowhands had lugged buckets of water to the animals each and every day. It had been backbreaking labor, but her father couldn’t afford to hire any additional hands.
With no stream to nourish the land, their grass turned brown. Her father’s shoulders stooped. His forehead became perpetually lined with worried wrinkles—not for himself, but for his daughter who would be left orphaned and penniless when he died. He’d
fought the ranch’s impending doom until his dying breath, never able to enjoy a moment’s leisure in his last years. True to his character, he hadn’t complained, and he’d made every attempt to hide his dismay from Elsie. Her heart had broken because she could see the pain he wouldn’t speak of written all over his face. No one had deserved happiness more than Cal Fin, and the Xaviers had robbed him of it. His final days had been spent working long hours and riding to town to see about getting a lawful order for the Xaviers to remove the dam causing the Fins’ financial ruin.
Elsie turned her glare on the marshal, who sat in a pew next to the Xaviers, and her anger grew. The lily-livered lawman, who seemed in cahoots with the Xaviers, was useless and had barely made an attempt to listen to Cal when he’d explained how the Xaviers were destroying his ranch. It wasn’t until a circuit judge rode through Virginia City and heard the Fins’ side of the story that they finally got a break. Unlike the marshal, the judge was a fair man without prejudice toward the newcomers, and he deduced that the Xaviers were doing dirty business in a spiteful attempt to run the Fins out of town.
But it was too little, too late. Cal Fin died a day before the judge ordered the Xaviers to tear down their dam.
The song ended and the preacher asked the congregation to join him in prayer. Elsie didn’t hear a word of it, nor did she bow her head and close her eyes. She stared at her father’s casket. Branded into the side of the box was the ranch’s infinity symbol, the same brand used on all their cattle. Elsie traced over it again and again with her eyes. The Infinity Ranch wouldn’t last for infinity. It might not even last until next month, and she couldn’t find the strength within herself to care. The only thing certain to last forever was her grief and anger.
Elsie felt an arm circle her shoulders as she trudged out of the church. Susannah Harrington offered her condolences, and Elsie somehow managed to murmur appropriate words of thanks to her and everyone else who expressed sympathy. Not a minute too soon, the Infinity Ranch’s foreman escorted her home.
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